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"She's.. she's such a bitch."
The first time Bella heard those muffled words flung out like a helpless white flag, her eyes stung. Her cheeks burned, as she stood, leaning against the office door separating her and the officers.
That morning, they had gotten into a heated argument. Bella barely remembered the reason, only the malice stayed, staining the kitchen floor.
The intern shot her a concerned look from his desk. She remained glued to her place, head hanging low, unable to make sense of why she visited. The lunch and apology note went into the garbage on her way home.
*
"You're a bitch."
The second time she heard those words, she felt nothing at all. Instead, she tilted her head and flashed the prettiest smile. The awful stench of Marlboro clung to her nightgown. Johnny had returned drunk, late that night; after investigating a murder that 'points back to the Mafia'. She had melted on her chair, twisting the cigarette, as if the news didn't concern her at all.
'What do you want me to do?' she wanted to ask. Instead, she scoffed.
You will never belong. She remembered being six, in her dirty Mary Janes when the Don had said those words. Even with no understanding of its full implication, she could sense a dread wailing up. Acknowledging that fear amidst a house full of tall men in black was her first memory. Being the child of a dead mother, taken in by the Don, she realized that there had been a shared understanding among those people; a dirty little secret no one let her in on. Until now, that is.
Bella could barely remember their dumb, blank faces.
No trace of forced savageness hid in those words. Her damnation was a mere prophecy among many others.
Stubbing out the cigarette, she rose up and threw herself onto Johnny. The crook of his hands, like soft grass, took in the shape of her. Maybe, she was drunk too, and Johnny was the chain-smoker just for the night. Lips crashing, skin on skin, bodies pressing against one another, all that messy business that would silence the world. Just for one night.
*
The gunshot rang though the woods. Her face twisted in disgust at the blood that splattered on her boots. The pride in Albert's face disarmed her.
"Neat for a first-timer, aren't you?"
Her eyes blurred. Was it Albert's words? Or maybe the dog she killed? Or some deep, rattling voice of reason that never saved her.
*
"You're a bitch," Johnny spat on the dinner table.
This time, Bella gasped. He dared raise his voice when Jimmy was home. Shame crept in upon her like a serpent saying: You deserve it.
"Daddy?" Jimmy peeked through the door, rubbing his tired eyes.
"Yes, Sweetheart."
Johnny's sudden softening of eyes startled her. His gentle voice made her wonder if the moments before were mere dreams.
"Why're you' so loud? 'M Sleepy."
"Oh, I'm so sorry." With a pleasant amusement, she caught a hint of regret in Johnny's eyes. It was not for her, she knew.
When Johnny went to his son, Bella was already moving out the door.
"You will never belong."
The loud bang of the door echoed in her mind. She stayed at the Don's that night.
*
She clasped her hands around her herringbone coat, in an attempt to warm herself up. The December lights filled her with such dangerous optimism, it scared her. Her heavy boots clicked against the wet pavement, gaining momentum. She could hardly contain herself.
In her Senior year, she fell in love. Like the snowflakes she caught with her tongue. She fell in love in a boy from University. Even though they had different majors, hardly a day passed when Johnny did not visit her. Today, she slipped in a kiss. Johnny froze, cheeks blooming into a flush of colors. Truly, it was the faintest brush of lips. She bolted away before Johnny snapped out of his trance.
*
The plates clattered against the sink. No water could wash away the bitterness.
"I can't believe that you are siding with the fucking Mafia!"
"I'm not."
"That's the reason of you remaining silent during interrogation. You're the only lead we have against them, Goddammit!"
"That's not why you married me, now, did you?" Bella sighed. She should've already foreseen this. "You know, he is my Dad. I cannot just cut him off."
"Unbelievable." Johnny ran a hand through his hair. "You know what, choose him or me."
"I will not cut him off." Bella scraped the fork against the plate, throwing away the leftovers. The screeches made Johnny flinch, or perhaps it was her words.
*
A hand banged her head against the wall, holding her to place, cheek against the pale yellow wall. She shivered.
"No need to get physical, aye." The creak of door and distant voice signaled the arrival of the gangly man. Vincenzo, her mind supplied. The fresh whitewash of the wall irritated her nose. She struggled before the man let go of her twisted arm. Sinking to her knees, she spat on the man who was holding her.
"You bitch-"
Bella positioned herself to bite his ear off.
"Stop."
The gruff voice silenced the room. Bella was a moth glued by a laser, a specimen of a museum, a beast tamed. Don Albert stepped in, with his crisp white shirt wrapped in a trench coat and unreadable eyes.
That day, Albert found out about Johnny and how he confessed.
"Do you think you can make a home out of him," Albert asked, "People are not homes, Bella. Do you think that man will truly love you?"
That day, with her chin held up by Albert's hand, she returned Albert's glare.
That day, when Albert told her how she could never escape his blood, Bella smiled. And when he went on, she laughed a laugh so foreign to her own self.
Now, when she thought back to that night, she didn't remember much of that conversation.
*
She would've quit smoking for Jimmy, if it weren't for how sick it made her feel. She would've cut Albert off, if it weren't for how desolate the landscape looked. She wore a guillotine to her neck. And she would've kissed Johnny if she weren't so fucked up in the head.
"My love..."
She drew in a breath like an arrow.
"Don't call me that." Her shoulders ached. "You haven't called me that in years."
"Well, you're not the woman I married, are ya'?"
Perhaps, Johnny was right. Perhaps, Albert was right too. She never belonged to a house where the right people were chosen, or where the right bodies were buried. Maybe, she was a bitch. A blind animal who could cut open a man for all the wrong reasons.
"You ever consider, we could put these guns down and start over?"
Bella knew the answer. She knew that Johnny knew the answer too. Without a word, she cocked her gun.